


the black and blue

by wordlocker



Series: every vixx pairing [4]
Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Popstar, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5484080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordlocker/pseuds/wordlocker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The most terrifying thing Wonshik can ever imagine is for Sanghyuk to stop shining for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the black and blue

Sanghyuk jolts awake at the insistent pushing against his shoulder. Squint-glaring at his manager, he yawns and turns to see they’re parked by his apartment building. Telling himself that his king-sized, Egyptian-cotton-sheeted bed is approximately a billion times better than the car seat, he stumbles out of the van and waves goodbye blearily. 

Miraculously punching in the right security code in one try through his sleep haze, he trips inside and heads straight to the bathroom. Teeth-brushing and face-washing done on autopilot, he fully intends to throw himself into bed and not move for the next – oh, four glorious hours before he has to be up and ready for a recording again. One glance at his phone and his drowsiness dissipates into thin air.

Sanghyuk settles against his mountain of pillows before he clicks on the audio clip Wonshik has sent him. His eyes promptly flutter shut at the opening melody, a satisfied hum escaping his lips. A few seconds later Wonshik’s rich dulcet tone wafts through and Sanghyuk’s completely awake, staring at his phone screen as if he can convey how much he loves the demo already just by doing that.

He lets the song play out once more before speed-dialing Wonshik, feeling like an infatuated teenager with a gigantic crush. “Hey, hyung,” he says as soon as the call is picked up.

Wonshik grunts in his ear, and Sanghyuk knows he’s probably interrupted a mixing session. He also knows Wonshik never really mind. “What are you doing still up? Don’t you have that thing tomorrow?”

“Are you kidding?” Sanghyuk laughs. “You sent me this glorious piece of art and expect me to keep my thoughts until morning?”

Sanghyuk can picture the uncontrollable blush taking over Wonshik’s face. When he decides to speak, Wonshik’s voice sounds wobbly. “Shut up. So you like it?”

“When have I ever not like what you give me, hyung?” Sanghyuk points out, hearing how raspy he sounds from grogginess, and pitching his voice lower just to hide it.

Wonshik clears his throat quietly, and Sanghyuk hears some rustling, imagining him moving away from his work console. “You think it’ll fit the mini album they want you to release next month?”

Sanghyuk hums, finally feeling his tiredness return. “I think so. It’s really good, hyung. I love it.”

Wonshik has gotten quiet, and Sanghyuk almost falls asleep until he talks again. “I’ll see you soon, Hyuk-ah. Go to bed. Get some rest.”

“You too,” Sanghyuk says, slipping under the covers. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wonshik scoffs, probably thinking that Sanghyuk’s just saying that.

Sanghyuk’s too drowsy to sass him about it, but he’ll make sure to prove that he means everything he says.

 

/

 

The first time Sanghyuk placed first on a music show, he carefully thanked the fans, then the company and staffs, then his parents, then the person who inspired him the most.

“To the most talented musician who gave this amazing song and so much more to me, Wonshikie hyung. I love you.”

And he never really stopped ever since.

 

/

 

Wonshik has exactly two rules about his studio that not even the CEO can escape from. The first is not to disturb even a single speck of dust in it, no matter how messy you think it is – and it’s called an organized mess, thank you very much. The second is not to disturb him when he’s working, which means no visits, no phone calls, no texts, no whispering through the cracked door even to ask what he wants for lunch.

People call him a rabid producer a lot of the times, and Wonshik is strangely proud of it.

His phone vibrates next to his hand and he lets it ring for three more times before snatching it off the desk angrily. Wonshik’s primed to bite whoever’s head that’s calling him right off (unless it’s one of his parents or his little sister). 

It’s Sanghyuk’s manager.

“What?” 

The guy stammers at the other end, clearly scared senseless. “Uh, I’m calling to – um, that is—”

Wonshik’s temper simmers down for him to be worried a little. “Is Sanghyuk okay?”

“Yeah, he told me to call you to say that he’s sorry he can’t make it to lunch today.”

The words are jumbled up in the manager’s rush and Wonshik has to take a moment to understand everything. “What happened? Is he okay?”

The guy hesitates and if Wonshik can reach his hand into the receiver, he’d choke the answer out of him already. “He’s pretty sick. But he said not to tell you.”

Wonshik tries not to panic, head spinning with the urgent need to go to Sanghyuk, and makes sure that he’s alright. “Tell him I’ll be there soon,” he says anyway, making sure to save his composing progress as he gathers his things.

“Uh,” is the only sound the manager manages to make before Wonshik hangs up on him.

Sanghyuk almost never gets sick. He’s as big as a horse, and pretty much just as healthy, as far as Wonshik is aware. But when the door to his apartment opens and the kid can barely prop himself up against it, Wonshik realizes there must a first time for everything. Sanghyuk looks red and blotchy all over, eyes heavily lidded and full lips flushed dark, and Wonshik itches to hold him in his arms. He makes do with letting him lean against his shoulder as they walk inside instead.

Sanghyuk flops onto the couch and lets out a series of coughs, making Wonshik wince. “What the hell happened to you, brat?”

“The doctor said some sort of virus,” Sanghyuk replies, muffled, waving an arm around.

Wonshik tsks. “Did you eat anything yet?”

Sanghyuk’s face scrunches up. “Manager hyung bought me some noodles and I puked everything back up. It was disgusting, you should’ve seen it.”

Wonshik sighs, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. It’s hard caring for a snarky know-it-all genius singer, but he can’t exactly imagine his life without it. “I’ll make you something. What do you want?”

Sanghyuk’s mouth bunches up, dark pink and soft, and Wonshik has to deliberately look away. “Sandwiches would be good, hyung. Also, can you get me a glass of juice?”

“You have the flu, not paralyzed,” Wonshik frowns. “Get your own juice.”

Sanghyuk lets out a whine that’s now forever embedded in Wonshik’s mind and he sort of hates him for it. He doesn’t budge, though, and the boy brushes past him into the open kitchen, muttering under his breath. “I wish my mom was here.”

“That guilt trip bullshit wouldn’t work on me,” Wonshik snorts. “I don’t have my mom with me either.”

Sanghyuk sips on his juice and flashes him a sharp smirk. “Yeah, but you’re _old_.”

Wonshik glares and shoves him out, not even feeling sorry for how he breaks into a coughing fit right after laughing. “Sit your ass down and shut up.”

It takes Wonshik fifteen minutes to assemble a decent sandwich, but when he walks out to the living room, Sanghyuk’s already dozing off, a cartoon playing on the TV. He looks much younger than he is when he’s like this, and it’s a view Wonshik treasures so much for how very little chance he gets to see it. Sometimes Sanghyuk will nap in his practice room when Wonshik happens to visit, or nods off right in the middle of a demo run-through in Wonshik’s chair. Every single time, he longs to reach over and rake Sanghyuk’s baby-soft hair away from his handsome face.

Wonshik misses this side of him a lot – the side he sort of hides from the rest of the world – but Wonshik can imagine the bright, boyish smile and intelligent, sharp eyes, and he misses that, too. Sanghyuk is like the stunning ball of sunshine that happened to trip into his life one day, and as lively as he is, Wonshik keeps waiting for him to fade.

The most terrifying thing Wonshik can ever imagine is for Sanghyuk to stop shining for him.

 

/

 

The crowd’s cheer is deafening, and he doesn’t care what anyone else says, Sanghyuk thinks he’ll never be able to get used to this. He takes his time to bow at the audience and the seniors and colleagues sitting all around him as the hosts prattle on about how great they think his last album was. His long-legged stride takes him onto the stage in a jiffy, and taking the trophy gingerly from the hot new actor he’s been seeing a lot on TV lately, he positions himself in front of the mic and breathes in deeply.

“First and foremost, I’d like to thank the fans,” Sanghyuk starts, making sure to pause for a bright smile. “Thank you to my parents, family, and friends. To the CEO, all the staffs and seniors at the company, thank you.”

The crowd goes wild when he pauses for a second time, squealing at how his head is lowered, lips slanted in an effort to reel his emotions in. Lower lip bitten, he starts again.

“Wonshik hyung,” he says, visualizing Wonshik watching this either at home or in his studio, cursing Sanghyuk for making him want to cry. “I literally would not have been here without you. For the care and the guidance, and the music, thank you. I love you.”

Sanghyuk lingers in front of the camera for a few seconds, beaming and holding up his award like he’s taught to. His heart pounds in his ribcage and the single thought in his mind is how he wishes Wonshik is there with him.

 

/

 

Wonshik is enjoying his brand of peace and quiet – hip hop tracks blaring via his headphones as he reclines in his plush ergonomic swivel chair – when there’s a rapid, dissonant knocking on his studio door. The two morons who Wonshik knows are behind it barge in without even waiting for a reply.

“Oh, look – he has his clothes on,” Wonshik hears as soon as he gets rid of the earphones.

“Were you _expecting_ me to be buck naked?” Wonshik asks flatly.

Hakyeon grins, winking flirtatiously at him. “Always.”

Jaehwan snorts, going around the room picking up tiny figurines and inspecting them. Wonshik would be annoyed, but half of them were gifts from Jaehwan anyway, so he lets it slide. “You seriously need to get laid, hyung.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Hakyeon sighs theatrically. 

Wonshik refuses to fall for _that_ trap so he ignores it completely. “Congratulations on the big award last night.”

Jaehwan bounces where he stands, exaggerated surprise on his features. “You were watching us?”

This time, Hakyeon snorts, making a face. “Please. He didn’t watch the award show for _us_. You know that.”

“Oh yeah,” Jaehwan deflates, joining Hakyeon in crowding Wonshik against his desk. “Your boy won an even bigger award.”

Wonshik doesn’t even pretend to not know who they’re talking about. “He always thanks me in his speeches. I had to watch,” he shrugs.

“Hey,” Hakyeon says indignantly. “We always mention you, too. But you keep giving all the good stuff only to Hyukie. It’s not fair!”

“Yeah, Wonshik,” Jaehwan adds, poking him in the chest. “Stop playing favorites. Where are our mega hits, you jerk?”

Wonshik has to bite his lips to keep from smiling – it’ll only encourage them. Jaehwan and Hakyeon are an incredibly talented vocal duo, one of the most successful in the country, and they get by more than fine. But for some reason, they keep squabbling for whichever songs Wonshik has set aside for Sanghyuk, claiming they’re better than whatever Wonshik wrote for them.

The two keep poking at him and yanking on his ears until the door bursts open and a large figure enters the room.

“Hey,” Sanghyuk barks, looming menacingly. “What’s happening here? What are you doing to my hyung?”

Wonshik has no time to entertain the fluttering in his chest because Sanghyuk is suddenly standing over him and holding Wonshik’s head protectively against his stomach.

Hakyeon narrows his eyes into slits, mock glowering at Wonshik. “I demand we get first pick on your next batch of demos. Or I’ll release my aegyo demon on you!”

Wonshik hides his laughter in Sanghyuk’s shirt, but it seems to tickle him, and he releases Wonshik’s head with a yelp.

“It’s no use, hyung,” Jaehwan sighs, defeated. He stares at the ceiling dramatically. “The weirdo secretly likes it. My super aegyo powers are useless.”

Sanghyuk and Wonshik are both giggling at this point, Wonshik subtly leaning against Sanghyuk’s firm belly.

Hakyeon clasps Jaehwan’s shoulder and huffs. “Let’s go, Jaehwan. Let’s hit the gym, get bigger, and we can come back and kick their gigantor asses.”

Jaehwan primly turns away, heading for the exit. “See you losers around.”

Sanghyuk smiles, eyes crinkled up happily. “See you, hyungs.”

“Take care, kid.” Hakyeon drops the act and reaches up to ruffle the younger’s hair warmly, catching up to Jaehwan at the door.

“We’re not really going to the gym, are we?” Jaehwan murmurs discreetly. 

Hakyeon sighs, wrapping an around his neck. “No. Let’s go get some ice cream or something.”

They can still hear Jaehwan excitedly chattering after the door closes, and Sanghyuk shoots Wonshik an unreadable look. Wonshik spins around in his chair, purposely knocking into Sanghyuk’s hip. “Congratulations on last night.”

Sanghyuk blinks slowly (prettily), a sweet smile spreading his mouth. “Congratulations to you.”

Sanghyuk does this a lot. Sometimes Wonshik thinks just to see him get flustered. He turns to his computer, changing the subject. “Rumors are flying about you, kid.”

He doesn’t need to specify exactly what, and Sanghyuk gets it. Him and the sparkling new pop princess, supposedly an item. Wonshik knows how gossips work in the industry, a few random appearances on the same reality or talk shows, a posed selca together backstage, adjoining seats at a huge public event, that’s all it takes, really. Both companies are not denying it for now, riding the publicity since they’re both such hot topics recently, but Wonshik still has to know.

He expects Sanghyuk to outright deny it, maybe say something about her not being his type or that they’re just friends – acquaintances, really, but Sanghyuk does none of those. 

“C’mon, hyung. You can’t believe everything you read.”

Wonshik meets his gaze, challenging his stare. “You’re not denying it.”

Sanghyuk doesn’t flinch, mouth set in an attractive moue as he shrugs.

He looks the part of a rebellious teenager Wonshik knows he essentially is, and Wonshik’s weak for it, every fiber of his being desperate to gather Sanghyuk close, locking him in an embrace so the world can’t touch him – safe and treasured the way he truly deserves to be.

“I’m performing on the award show tomorrow,” Sanghyuk says suddenly. “You have to watch it.”

Wonshik has about a dozen new melodies he needs to put down and work out, but they both know he’s going to drop them for a few hours and watch the stupid program. “Okay, I will.”

Sanghyuk steps up to him, breath damp and hot against the furl of Wonshik’s ear. He’s staring at their reflection on Wonshik’s computer screen severely. “I’m serious, hyung. I’m going to dedicate it for you.”

Wonshik whirls around, almost knocking Sanghyuk’s chin, gulping as he realizes how close they are. “What? What do you mean?”

Sanghyuk moves back, a cocksure grin on his face and an angle to his stance. “You’re going to have to watch.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.”

Sanghyuk’s answer to that is a sharper smirk and a defiant tilt to his eyebrow, walking out of the studio with a lingering gaze that makes Wonshik’s chest constrict.

 

/

 

Wonshik can’t even remember the last time he reaches home before dinnertime – three months? Four? Too long. It’s a little strange getting to see the city skyline through the large windows when the sun is up. He doesn’t dwell on it, though, stuffing the few groceries he manages to grab into the fridge and sliding in the frozen pizza to heat into the microwave. Rushing off to his bedroom to change and back, he slips the pizza onto a plate and takes a seat in front of the TV, switching it on.

It’s hours of idly watching artists perform and present awards, fresh and well-known faces mingling and chatting at their tables, seemingly oblivious to the cameras catching them. Wonshik sees Jaehwan and Hakyeon whispering to each other and smiles just in time for Hakyeon to start laughing at something Jaehwan tells him, hidden bashfully behind his hand. They look happy, and Wonshik’s insides warm up just watching them. The camera finally pans to the back and Sanghyuk’s there, seated next to his rumored sweetheart, looking lovely together.

He’s smiling as he talks to her, but their bodies are angled apart, and his smiles don’t stick on for long. Wonshik munches on his pizza, strangely satisfied, and waits for Sanghyuk’s turn to take the stage. He doesn’t exactly know the order of performances, and checking Sanghyuk’s numerous fansite sources seems a little too pathetic to him.

When the hosts start hyping up the audience with what clearly is a description of Sanghyuk, Wonshik sits straighter, his can of soda sitting abandoned on the coffee table. Sanghyuk looks stunning – sharply tailored three-piece suit and upswept hair, daunting height cancelled out by his charmingly boyish smile, eyes the perfect little crescents. 

When he speaks, it’s in a low, honeyed tone that drives the crowd absolutely wild. “Hello, my name is Han Sanghyuk. I would like to dedicate this song tonight to the love of my life. You told me not to do anything stupid, but I think it’s too late. I fell in love with you a long time ago.”

The opening chords are lost in the shrill shouts from the audience, and time seems to stand still for Wonshik. When Sanghyuk’s sweet voice finally filters through, he’s only aware of the tight clenching in his gut and the way his heart is pounding so hard it feels like bursting. On screen, Sanghyuk belts out the chorus, eyes landing on the camera and staring into it.

His eyes flutter closed, and a secretive smile tugs at his lips, and Wonshik knows that he’s singing for him.

He waits to the end of the performance, for Sanghyuk to exit the stage and the hosts to fawn over how charismatic it was, then he’s out the door heading back to his studio.

 

/

 

The thing about being cooped up in the studio is that Wonshik almost always loses track of time. There’s no telling what time of the day it is unless he checks his phone or computer, and he never does that when he’s working on something – eating whenever his stomach tells him to and taking naps whenever his eyes or head feel too heavy.

He’s squinting through half-lidded eyes when Sanghyuk finds him god-knows-how-many-hours later, and Wonshik can only guess that it’s the morning from Sanghyuk’s shower dampened hair and freshly scrubbed pink cheeks. He pauses at the entrance, letting the door shut behind him with a quiet click.

Wonshik’s too sleep deprived to even be freaking out, so he makes to turn back around to his computer, muttering, “Oh, you’re here. What time is it— _umph_.”

Sanghyuk’s lips are dry and firm against his, the kiss chaste yet hurried. Sanghyuk’s grip on the armrests of his chair transfers to his neck, cradling him in place. When they part, Wonshik’s head is spinning more than it originally did.

“How did you even know I watched it?” he asks, slurred and breathy.

Sanghyuk eyes are locked on his, darting down to his mouth, and then back again. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, just as breathless.

Sanghyuk actually looks just like any other day: beautiful face, carelessly tousled hair, legs a mile long. Wonshik’s heart is still consumed by affections, and he’s absolutely clueless on how to proceed. “I made something for you,” he finally says, almost a whisper.

Sanghyuk leans in, and Wonshik hesitates over the file name – _precious star_ \- too telling, he thinks, but he doesn’t hear a comment about it as he clicks. It’s flagrantly different than Sanghyuk’s usual sounds – the sounds Wonshik helped him create, and Wonshik’s almost vibrating with nervous energy as it plays out, his unsteady voice mumbling out lyrics in random spots. Sanghyuk breathes steadily next to him, not moving a muscle, and Wonshik’s terrified that he doesn’t get it – what Wonshik is trying to tell him in melody and verse, very much less direct than Sanghyuk’s method.

“It’s – it’s not finished yet, clearly,” Wonshik mutters when the song tapers off into silence, breath lodged in his throat as he waits for the verdict. “Do you like it?”

Sanghyuk has no answer for him, the only response Wonshik gets is a dazzling smile before their lips meet, hungrier and more frantic this time, Sanghyuk swiping his tongue expertly against his as they struggle to fit into one chair. Wonshik is only vaguely aware that Sanghyuk is straddling him, as if he isn’t a gigantic boy with the height and bulk surpassing Wonshik, his senses completely focused on the tangling of their tongues. Sanghyuk’s cheeks are so soft to the touch, belying the sharp cut of his jawline, his large hands wrapped around Wonshik’s neck, long fingers tugging at the hair on his nape.

The chair creaks dangerously, palpable even through their noisy breathing and soft moans, and Sanghyuk breaks away, giggling adorably. “You’re such a sap,” he accuses, pink bottom lip bitten and swollen.

Wonshik grunts, shoving his unmovable chest in protest. “At least I didn’t do it on a national broadcast.”

Sanghyuk looks down at him – and, god, has he always been this big? – eyes glinting with mischief. “I had to do it to get through that thick skull of yours, hyung.”

“Your management team is going to kill you,” Wonshik points out, shaking his head.

Sanghyuk tangles his fingers further into Wonshik’s hair, shrugging. “We could run away from the company? Start our own?”

His legs are starting to get numb from supporting Sanghyuk’s weight, but he still manages to laugh. “You’re insane. I love you.”

It slips out of him, and Wonshik’s breath catches for the split second it takes for Sanghyuk to react. It’s a beautiful mix of fondness and fascination, then he’s being kissed again, hard but intimate. It’s already addicting, the taste and feel of Sanghyuk, and Wonshik gladly holds him closer, taking the leap.

“Finally,” Sanghyuk whispers, laughing softly against his mouth, not moving away at all.

Wonshik echoes it in his heart, pulling Sanghyuk in once more, heart fluttering as he comes easily, earnestly, just like the first day he took Wonshik’s song and made it an art.

**Author's Note:**

> » title taken from vixx’s ravi & hyuk’s ‘memory’


End file.
